


Here be Titans

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Exiled!Eren, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3405596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They argue and argue in the trial. Eren understands that this is his life at stake, that one wrong word may introduce him to the end of an executioner's blade. As the debate grows more and more fervent, he opts to keep his mouth shut. </p><p>This changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here be Titans

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS WRITTEN BY MY FRIEND CHLOE, NOT ME. Have a good day.

He watches silently as they continue to argue, that he's a danger to the remaining populance, that he can help in scouting missions, that he may go on a rampage and kill everyone, that he could possibly turn the tide of battle. He wants, oh so badly, to just shout, to tell them that he's not a danger, that he'll help them, that he promised he will kill all the titans, that he doesn't break his damn promises. But he knows that his protests won't help matters, may even worsen them, so he keeps his mouth shut, not saying a word.

Eventually, they come to a standstill. The side begging for his execution puts forth a suggestion – and refuse to take it back. In the end, the Survey Corps have no choice but to back down reluctantly. In the end, the suggestion turns out to not be suggestion at all, turns out to be a demand.

In the end, Eren Jaeger is exiled, barred from ever entering the walls again.

The Survey Corps members escort him grimly. The atmosphere is tense, and Eren vaguely wonders how this can be considered a compromise at all, given how this seems to only fulfil one side's demand, leaving the other wholly uncontented. He wants to protest, wants to scream, but he can't. He'd never submit, but they forced him down, trapped him completely and perfectly in a web he'll never escape. He can't go back, they've made it clear. Come back and you'll die, they said firmly, eyes glittering. He wants to protest, wants to kick and scream and fight, but he can't.

He closes his eyes as they leave the confines of the wall. In a flash, he feels the whipping wind, then – nothing. It's truly ironic, how he got his wish, but not in the way he asked for. In a way he'd never thought of.

He inhales, and opens his eyes. The open plains greet him, devoid of people.

He's free of the walls, no longer being kept inside like cattle.

The thought doesn't satisfy him at all.

 

He looks around, examining his surroundings, hopes and dreams laying at his feet. Spotting a forest off in the distance, he makes up his mind, decides to go there.

 

He doesn't know how he survives the first few weeks. He's incompetent at hunting, though he notes that he's slowly getting better at it, so he has to live on berries from the forest. It's a miracle that he doesn't stumble across any poisonous ones, given the wide range of deadly types of them and his generally abysmal luck. Then again, he supposes being exiled and dumped into a land when titans roamed freely may just use up his supply of bad luck for a while.

Some days, he looks up at the sky and screams. Others, he goes on a rampage through the forest. It's another miracle how he manages not to run into any titans. Must be on a streak of good luck, he laughs bitterly until he cries, his sobs going unheard, witnessed by none except for the moon, shining brightly above him as he falls into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning.

His streak of luck runs out on the sixteenth night, seventeenth, who knows, really, for no one keeps track of it.

On the sixteenth night, maybe seventeenth, he comes across a titan. The first thing that comes into his mind is killitkillitkillit and he sees red. With a yell of fury, he charges forward, only to become painfully aware of his malnourished body, skinny and weak, partly due to insufficient rest. It doesn't matter though, he thinks cynically. He's going to die anyway, because of starvation, an accident, one wrong step. Does it really matter if he dies at the hands of a titan?

Yes, yes it does, the answer comes in a rush of clarity. Because you made a promise, and you never break a promise, no matter what.

He doesn't know why he's having an epiphany right when he's charging headfirst at a titan, but he is, and he doesn't question it.

 

He doesn't remember much of the fight, only flashes of blood and growls and being shoved into trees and shoving the other into trees. He wins, though, and that's all that matters. When he transforms back, he slumps over, unconscious. He wakes up a few hours later, covered in blood with the corpse of the titan laying in front of him.

As he stares at the sight, he can't stop the incredulous laughter bubbling up. He doubles over laughing, wild and free with just a tinge of insanity in it.

Absently, he wonders what titan tastes like.

 

Titan meat doesn't taste terrible, nor does it taste good. It was rather disgusting eating it, yes, but he could get used to it. He rubs two sticks together to start a fire and succeeds after a while. He roasts the meat over the fire, and keeps the remainder in a makeshift bag made out of the tatters of his clothes.

He would prefer meat from animals though, and decides to try to learn hunting. Until he can actually catch and kill an animal though, he'll just have to live off the berries in the forest and the titan meat he saved.

It's a start.

 

He starts to keep track of the days that go by. One more line for everytime the sun comes up. He doesn't know what date it is, never having bothered until the fight, but he starts over.

Year zero, day eight, he thinks, drawing another line in the dirt.

 

Sometimes, he wonders how Mikasa's doing, how Armin's doing. If they're handling his exile fine, if they care. How are they treating themselves? Did they continue in the Survey Corps after his exile? Did they remember him?

Were they alive?

And he stops wondering, puts a halt to his train of thought. Because they have to be alive. Have to. And he can't doubt that.

It's unrealistic, foolishly optimistic, but he believes that as long as he believes, they'll survive.

So he'll keep believing, keep clinging on to the small beacon of hope, because they have to survive. Have to.

 

He finally succeeds in a hunt, year zero, day twenty-two. It's a deer, and he caught it by scaring it into a trap, breaking its neck and legs in the process.

At first, he feels triumph, pride, but then he just feels tired. Is this what my life is going to be like, he asks himself as he clumsily tries to skin the deer. A boring, monotonous routine?

Yes, his surroundings seem to mock.

Yes, they repeat, seeming to laugh; the wind howls, cold and lonely.

 

Year zero, day twenty-four. He encounters another titan. This one is weaker than before, he thinks distantly. Blood splatters on the ground, trees are uprooted.

He wins, again.

 

He thinks, maybe, he should try learning how to utilise his titan form. How to make the best of its potential. For hunting, for fighting, for travelling.

It would be useful.

 

Year zero, day twenty-seven. The first of the experiments commences. It's hard to pull off alone, but he'll manage. He notes how he seems to think less and less, seems to care less and less, as the days go on.

Life is more of an obligation, these days.

 

Year zero, day thirty-seven. He briefly wonders why he's doing this, why he's going through the trouble. Then he remembers the promise, and his vision comes into focus. He's going to succeed, he's going to avenge his mother, the titans' are going down. That's his goal, his purpose, his reason for living.

Why, then, does he feel so tired? So detached?

He goes to sleep earlier. It's dreamless, and the best sleep he had in years.

 

Year zero, day forty-six. He thinks that maybe this experiment will be a failure, will never work out. He's not improving at all, it's the same as the first time he ever shifted. Though he supposes not being able to tell the difference between friend and foe doesn't really matter anyway, it's morbid, but everything is a foe now.

Does it really matter?

He wants to say yes, because he made a promise and Eren Jaeger never breaks his promises, that he's Eren motherfucking Jaeger and he'll never give up.

Deep down, though, he knows that it doesn't matter, that he might as well give up. He doesn't want to accept it though,thinks firmly of his promise.

Of his promise that now brings apathy and indifference.

 

Year zero, day fifty-nine. The experiment is still on-going, still producing no results.

He randomly thinks about venturing out of the forest.

 

Year zero, day sixty-two.

He traces the gouges he's made in the ground with a finger, and wonders if the land would have stayed the way it was before if he never came here.

 

Year zero, day eighty-four. The days pass like a blur, and his memories slowly fade until everything before this, before the forest, it all seems like memories of a stranger. Sometimes, he wonders why he's trying so hard to gain control over his titan. He knows he made a promise, but he just can't remember what the promise was.

He supposes gaining control over his titan would help if he ever wanted to travel.

 

Year zero, day ninety-eight. He's gained some modium of control over his titan, finally.

Perhaps he should leave the forest.

 

He stops keeping track of the days. He can't remember why he ever started. He creates makeshift containers using skin of animals he hunts, and packs his food into them.

He walks out of the forest.

 

He finds many more titans roaming outside the forest rather than inside the forest. He guesses that titans would prefer a more open space rather than a crowded place, which explains why he came across barely any when he lived in the forest. He uses his titan form to travel, hiding away when his endurance runs out. The other titans don't bother him when he's in his titan form, and with what little control he has, he stops himself from attacking them in titan form.

He can't remember why he wants to kill them so badly, why he has an urge to just charge and snap and tear.

He brushes it off as titan instinct, and continues his journey.

 

On his travels, he comes across a village. A blonde with her hair tied up in a ponytail, her fringe draping down on both sides of her face, runs out. Her eyes widen, and before he even knows what's going on, his world goes black.

 

He wakes up on a bed, fully clothed, with the blonde standing beside him. Giving him a cursory lookover, she hands him a cup of water, which he suspiciously examines.

"It's normal water," the familiar-looking blonde says, "if that's what you're thinking."

"How do I know," he croaks out, his voice raspy from disuse, "that you're not lying?"

The blonde smiles, and he can't tell if it's fake or genuine.  
"You don't," she responds, and tips the water down his throat.

 

"Who are you?" he asks the blonde. She looks so familiar, yet he just can't put his finger on it.

"You don't remember?" she tilts her head to the side, raising an eyebrow. "Annie Leonhardt."

And his memories come back in a rush.

"Ah- you- you're the girl who's really good at fighting!" Eren blurts out.

"Yes," she says with a smile on her face and hand at the back of his head. He barely has time to utter a sound before she knocks him out with an easy blow.

 

"Why am I here?" is his question when he wakes up. Eren looks at Annie warily. She's standing beside, just like the earlier times. He doesn't expect her to tell the truth.

"Nothing about your friends?" she queries, avoiding his question and brushing her fringe out of her face. He blinks, slightly confused. "They're doing fine. Taken on your promise, in fact, although they also loathe most people for exiling you."

"Oh," he says. Annie looks at him impassively.

"You have a power we want," she says, in response to his first question.

"Titan shifting," he mutters.

"Nothing of that sort, actually," she corrects, brushing her hair out of her face again. "You see, we suspect you of being the Coordinate."

He is rightly confused. Then, a question occurs to him.

"I thought I was exiled. Why-" he asks.

"Because we're not part of them," a male voice answers at the entrance of the room. Eren snaps his head up. Reiner is standing there, Bertolt at his side. Bertolt looks at him warily.

"W- what?" he asks. He has no idea what the hell is going on.

"We work for an organisation," Annie clarifies, "whose goals are the opposite of the people inside the walls."

Eren is speechless.

"Our goal," Reiner adds, "is to eradicate humanity."

Eren stares blankly.

And he just feels tired.

 

They talk to him about his Coordinate powers, about how he can help them destroy humanity, how he should get revenge on humanity for callously tossing him aside just because he was special.

They let him stew over it for a few hours.

He feels tired, so very tired.

 

They take him around the village, tries to convince him to stay. He remains mostly neutral, something that they think they can change.

"So far, we haven't really done anything inside the walls other than spy and subtly influence others," Reiner shrugs, telling Eren on his third day there. "Our plan couldn't be put into action, since it revolved around you actually being in the Survey Corps."

The next day, they tell him they have to return to inside the walls. He can't bring up any emotion other than apathy, now that he knows what they're doing. They leave him in the care of a stoic woman named Irmina. She's a titan shifter, much like everyone in the organisation, blonde with blue eyes, also like most people in the organisation. Her hair barely covering her ears and standing at an impressive height, she's formidable, and Eren doesn't interact with her much. The most Eren's ever heard her say is a cordial greeting, and he doesn't bother to get more out of her.

When he wanders around the village, he sees children being trained harshly, and Eren wonders what they'll grow up to be like, without their childhood.

 

The sixth day, Irmina talks to him.

"Leonhardt has informed me that you are an untrained titan shifter," she says, her eyes cold and hard.

Eren nods his head.

"That is unacceptable," she says. "I shall train you."

And she does.

 

Irmina watches him impassively.

"It seems that you've gained some control over your titan," she notes. "Good, but not good enough."

She instructs him to do this, to do that. He roars at the audacity of this human; how dare she try to tell him what to do? He snarls, and goes on full-attack mode.

She manages to stop him within a few minutes, and he staggers forward, gasping at the feeling of being forcefully taken out of his titan form.

"You must have the will," she says, narrowing her eyes, "have the determination. Your titan is a part of you, you are the titan. You are in control."

Eren, exhausted, just nods.

 

"Better," she allows four days later, when Eren finally has control. It's not perfect by any means, but it's much, much better than his first, stumbling attempts. Eren realises, to truly gain control over his titan, that one can't do it alone, which is the reason why it took so long for barely any control in the forest.

"Now," she starts, and Eren looks at her with dread, "to find your strengths; what makes you different from regular titans."

 

They practice until the sun sets, and Irmina then calls it off. Eren collapses to the ground, panting harshly. Irmina barely spares him a glance before walking off. He manages to drag himself to his bed and falls into a deep sleep.

 

He wakes up to the sound of people greeting Reiner, welcoming him back. He walks outside, rubbing his eyes blearily. Reiner waves him over.

"Hey, Eren," he greets. "How's life here?"

Are you on our side, is the silent question.

"It's okay. Irmina's harsh, but I've improved a lot from her training. Not really much to do around here, to be honest," Eren replies vaguely.

"Oh, Irmina's training you?" Reiner asks. "Heh, bet she reminds you of Annie."

"Yeah, actually," Eren says. Irmina is similar to Annie, in quite a few ways.

"Most women here are similar in personality," Reiner shrugs. He claps Eren on the back. "Anyway, gotta report to my commanding officer, then I have to leave later. See you around."

With that, he trots off.

 

Irmina and Eren find, later, that his titan form has incredible stamina. Irmina looks him over with a critical eye.

"Not something that you can really train," she says. "Continue with your control training."

So Eren does.

 

It's his seventeenth day when Irmina finally declares his control acceptable, and calls off their training.

Eren watches later, as Irmina corrects a child's stance, treating him much more gently than she did Eren.

He snorts. Motherly instincts, must be.

 

It's his, what, seventeeth day at the village and Annie returns.

"Eren," she says, looking at him straight in the eye, "we need your power."

Eren gives her a questioning look.

"I- we're launching an attack. The Survey Corps have been sniffing around, poking their noses into things that aren't their business," she explains, her eyes showing a hint of anger as she continues, "we need a distraction, and it'd be easier if we can use more than just our organisation's titan shifters."

Eren hesitates briefly.

"Who exactly has been sniffing around?" he asks.

"More senior members," she replies, her gaze sharp and assessing.

"I… see," Eren says. "Perhaps… do you think that titans will listen to those who the Coordinate orders them to listen to?"

Annie bites her lip.

"You can try," she says.

 

Eren inhales deeply.

"Listen," he roars, "to Annie, for the rest of your lives!"

The titans roar back.

And it works.

 

On the nineteenth day, all three of the spies come back, weary, but mostly uninjured.

"Went off without a hitch," is all they say when questioned.

 

Later on, he corners Bertolt.

"Did you enjoy doing it?" is the question Eren asks bluntly.

"There is no other choice," is the vague answer he gets. And Eren realises that for himself, there is.

 

"I feel restless," Eren tells them. "Sorry."

Annie looks slightly pained, but she nods.

"Just, ask the wild titans to listen to us, and we'll let you go," she says.

It's reasonable.

 

"I'm leaving," he tells Irmina.

"Goodbye," she responds.

It's polite, cordial, formal and he doesn't care for it to be any other way.

 

"Alright," Reiner shrugs. "But on your journey, mind telling the titans you encounter to listen to us too? It'd be helpful."

"Okay," Eren says.

"Well, maybe we'll see you around. Bye," he says, and walks off, Bertolt at his side.

They won't.

 

Eren leaves on his twenty-first morning. He's said his goodbyes, and no one's there to send him off.

He doesn't expect them to.

 

He's sitting on a tree branch, swinging his legs. And he wonders what to do next.

He thinks. Thinks of his past with detachment. Skims over the memories until a word catches his attention.

Ocean.

He had wanted to see it, to truly look at it through his very own eyes, not through secondhand drawings based off possibly inaccurate pictures.

He hums. It's silly. Stupid. But he wants to, anyway. And he decides, then and there, that he'll reach the ocean, or die trying.

Not that what happens to him matters much in the long run.

 

He chooses a random direction, away from the village, away from the walls, and starts walking. The wind howls. His makeshift bag rustles, the food inside it rubbing against each other.

It's cold outside.

 

His titan form makes the trip faster, but he doesn't know if faster will help him. Is there even an ocean? Or is it nothing more than a simple fairytale?

He wonders what Armin's doing. He loved the ocean too, after all.

He wonders if Armin being alive is nothing more than a simple fairytale.

He wonders if they'll ever learn that he's partly responsible for the destruction of humanity.

 

His titan form has incredible stamina, but no matter how much, it'll always run out eventually. He has to rest after little more than a day or two.

He wonders if this can be taken as a metaphor for humanity.

His thoughts get more philosophical and morbid by the day.

 

He walks on and on, telling the titans to listen to the organisation.

He wonders if he'll walk for eternity.

 

He's in a forest, he and someone else. Everything's a blur, he can't make out their faces.

"The only thing we're allowed to do…" a voice says, and Eren doesn't know who's speaking, "is to believe that we won't regret the choice we made."

And Eren wakes up, gasping for breath.

 

Does he regret this?

 

He doesn't know.

And he continues walking.

 

He walks and walks and walks. Everything's a blur, memories of staying in the village distant.

He remembers two people, one with black hair, the other a blond. They're laughing together, the picture of childhood innocence.

He doesn't remember their names, and he doesn't bother trying to.

 

There's a difference in scenery, sand surrounding him.

He's glad he brought water; seems like there's not much here. The sand is scorching hot, and he speeds up his pace.

He doesn't want to stay for long.

 

For day and night, he trudges. He's gotten out of the place with sand a long time ago.

 

He's exhausted.

 

It's been so long.

 

He sees blue in the far distance. Perhaps…

 

The sun is setting. He's in his human form, and he stares out into the distance. The ocean water laps at his toes. It's relaxing, comforting. He sits down, watching the way the water moves, smooth and flowing and gentle.

He's done it.

He wonders why, why did he do this. He reaches back into his memories, getting past the blur of memories of his walking.

And he remembers.

His promise, his friends. Armin, Mikasa. The trial.

He thinks about his promise, how he never did fufil it, in the end. Did the opposite, in fact. He thinks about Armin, about Mikasa, and finds complete and utter apathy. He tips his head back. He would laugh, but he doesn't care enough.

Idly, he wonders if his life would have been better if he wasn't exiled, if he were allowed to continue in the Survey Corps.

He looks out at the ocean, what were once his hopes and dreams laying at his feet.

"No," he decides, his mouth twisting into a mockery of a smile, fragile and bitter and brittle,

 

"it wouldn't have."

 

 


End file.
